6th Horseman, Extremist Edge Series: Part 1 (27 page)

“We’ve been on this boat for thirteen hours,”
I mention.

“Yup. And from Swindler’s Cove to here is
about twenty-two miles. So that’s about right. Two miles an hour,”
he confirms proudly.

Ian wakes up, hearing our conversation. “Have
you guys seen any boats we can use?”

“No. We passed a dock about an hour ago. From
what I could see, there were a couple of motorboats and a few masts
sticking out of the water. Mostly it was empty.”

“There was probably a rush to the boats.
Government had to shoot them up so no one would escape,” Josh
replies.

He’s right. While I was guarding the
Queensboro Bridge I heard the radio chatter about the boats making
a break for New Jersey. The National Guard had to fire on a boat
when they didn’t turn back, killing everyone on board.

“We have no idea how much area the EMP
affected, but I think it’s safe to say there’s probably a three to
four-hundred-mile area that is burned out. We won’t find any usable
boats until we hit Atlantic City,” I reason. “Even then we may find
that in the panic there was a rush to get off the land. Finding a
useable boat might be extremely difficult.”

“I know where there’s a useable boat,” Josh
says. He’s about to explode with excitement.

“Spit it out,” Isabella snaps.

“Back toward the city, just on the other side
of downtown there’s the New York Seaport Museum. They’ve got old
boats not affected by the EMP. Big sailboats.”

“Don’t you think someone would have taken
those boats or they would have been sunk?” Tanis asks, with worry
in his eyes.

Josh shakes his head. “Those boats are
difficult to maneuver. Most date back to the early nineteen
hundreds. Not great getaway vehicles.”

“What are you, a fucking pirate?” Ben
snips.

“If they aren’t great getaway vehicles then
how do you expect us to get away?” Markus asks.

Josh shrugs. “Different situation now. The
main event is already behind us and the puppets are slow.” Josh
pushes up his dark-rimmed, thick glasses. “All we have to do is get
off the dock.”

“Worth a shot,” I say and look at Ian. He
nods and takes one oar. We turn the boat back to New York and pull
hard on the oars.

Rice starts crying. “I’m not going back
there!” she exclaims. “Let me off first!” She stands, rocking the
boat.

“Sit down!” Isabella orders. “Where the fuck
are you gonna go?”

“I’m not going back there!” Rice cries,
pointing toward downtown New York. “You can’t make me! It’s just
death! Death!”

Isabella grabs Rice’s wrist and forces her to
sit down with a well-maneuvered pressure point hold.

“Yeah, hold your shit a sec.” Ben stands up
to protest. The boat rocks his way.

“If you don’t sit down, chubby, I’ll throw
you in the river myself.” The intensity in Isabella’s stare forces
Ben to sit. He raises his hands in silent protest.

Isabella turns to Rice then releases her
wrist. “I want off this boat and on a bigger boat. You’re not gonna
get in my way. You rock this boat again, I’ll throw you over, no
doubt.”

Ian mediates. “Wait, hold on. Josh, is there
another boat you know of that might be easier to get to? Maybe one
that’s not on New York Island?”

“Yeah, but it’s in Virginia Beach,” Josh
answers. “That’s four, maybe five days south.”

I shake my head. “I cannot stay on this small
boat that long. We have no food, little water, we’re shoulder to
shoulder, and I’m already cramping.”

Ian nods. “Sorry, Rice. We’ve got to get a
bigger boat.” He and I start rowing again. Rice closes her eyes and
slumps down, not saying a word.

After a half hour it seems we’ve hardly
moved. But Josh assures us we’re making good time despite rowing
against the current. Isabella and Josh take the oars. They row for
a while. I see the tall downtown buildings getting closer. Ben and
Markus take a turn. They don’t last long.

Ian and I take the oars again. Together we
churn the peaceful waters of the bay.

As we near Battery Park I can’t see any
puppets. Trees fill the small park overshadowed by the huge
downtown buildings. The trees block the view to the streets, which
is why they were planted there in the first place. Beyond the park
is a dock that holds the large warehouse-like ferry terminals bound
for Staten Island and the Governor’s Islands. They’re quiet now,
usually filled with tourists and workers and school kids on field
trips. I don’t see the ferries. I have to look at the water for a
while. The silence of the city so unnatural it gives me waves of
sadness. The water, on the other hand, is supposed to be soothing
and orderly in its shifting chaos, so I space out on the ripples
and reflections. I row harder so I don’t think about the stress of
my muscles or the roar of my blood.

As we row around the end of Manhattan I see
the seaport. Ship masts tower over the heliport just in front of
the ships. I’d seen these boats hundreds of times, but had
forgotten they were there because of the heliport. Presidents,
heads of state, and other very important people used this place.
I’d been assigned as watch dog on more than one occasion when I was
a rookie.

As we get closer to the heliport we start
seeing puppets. There are some on the heliport dock that take
notice of us. Others are gathering on South Street. No one says
anything, but we’re all thinking this might be a bad idea. I notice
Rice hiding her face behind her palms. I feel bad for her. She’s
shaking. Even Ben is chewing on his dry lips, trying to keep
calm.

Isabella and Josh take over rowing. It’s
brutally slow. We see more and more puppets gathering. Once we had
gotten to the Hudson I couldn’t see them. The river was too wide.
But now it’s daylight, and we’re going to test our fate by trying
to steal a wooden boat from a museum. Thousands of puppets realize
where we are and they’re spreading the word.

“The huge boat with the black hull…over
there…is the
Peking
,” Josh says proudly while rowing. “The
Peking
is called a barque. It’s fast and stable . . . and
used to fly around Cape Horn, you know, the tip of South America.”
Josh is out of breath so he hands the oar to Ian so he can
talk.

“At over three hundred and seventy feet,
she’s too big for us. And I’m not sure I’ve ever seen her on the
bay anyway. I think she’s permanently tied to the dock. Now, in
front of her is the
Wavertree
, but that’s not an option
either. Non-operational. But right in front of the both of them is
the
Pioneer
.”

The
Pioneer
has a black hull with a
white painted deck. Its masts are black, but her bowsprit is white.
It’s a stunning vessel, but I’d feel nervous about trying to sail
it. There are ropes and lines everywhere. All of which I know
nothing about.

“That puny one?” says Ben.

“It’s over one hundred feet long,” Josh
replies. “She just looks small because the
Peking
is so
gargantuan. The
Pioneer
is a merchant vehicle, a schooner
rig with an eighty-foot mast.”

“Keep it simple,” Isabella says as she pulls
the oar with every muscle in her body. She and Ian are working
hard. They know, as do I, that the faster we get there the fewer
puppets we’ll have to deal with.

“
Pioneer
is like a freight truck on
the sea. She delivered anything and everything from sand to tea.
She’s strong, has an iron hull, is over twenty feet wide, and, with
her centerboard up, only 4.5 feet deep. She’ll get us anywhere we
want…and fast,” Josh concludes.

“How do you know it’ll still work?” Markus
asks.

“Well, she has a diesel engine that was added
in the thirties. That type of engine would have survived the
EMP.”

“Those things are following us again,” Rice
mutters. “They’re going to be all over those boats soon.”

“Let’s hurry and sail away to some deserted
island,” Tanis says with a shaky voice. He’s a trooper, that’s for
sure. I put my arm around him and squeeze.

“This is all nice, but does anyone know how
to drive that shit on the ocean?” Ben asks.

“I’ve sailed dinghies.” Ian replies. “I was
twelve, so I’m not a captain or anything. Plus, my father had a
Sunray 501. He was overprotective and never let me take it out, but
I’ve been on it with him a bunch of times.”

“I’ve been on her,” Josh states, to no one’s
surprise. “She’s got lots of room. Plus, a couple of years ago her
rooms were totally decked out. You could even charter it with a
five-star chef on board.”

“The name is fitting,” Markus comments.
“
Pioneer
.”

I trade with Isabella. Ian and I buckle down
and row as fast as we can.

“A lot of puppets on the dock.” Isabella
counts. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

The main dock is taller than the deck of the
Pioneer
, but there’s a lower wood deck that we can use to
get to the ship. The puppets seem to eye us thoughtfully. They
anticipate where we’re going to dock. “Stop!” I call out. “We can’t
pull up to the lower deck. The puppets will overflow that area and
may get on our boat.”

“So pull up to the end of the big dock.
There’s a ladder over there.” Ian says. “We’ll get their attention
and push past them. Then we should have enough time to get to the
Pioneer
and cut the lines.”

Markus pulls his bat off the floor of the
boat then hands it to Ben. “This is better than your
two-by-four.”

“Oh, I’m being volunteered?”

“Stay here if you want. I got it covered.”
Isabella says.

“What about your ankle?” Josh asks, but
Isabella is on the move.

Ian and I row up to the end of the dock.
Isabella slips on her backpack and two rifles. She grabs the
handles of a ladder rung buried in the wooden pilings and climbs up
and onto the top deck.

“Hand me my Beater Stick,” she orders. Rice
hands her the bloodied and slightly bent pole. “I’ll clear the
dock. Watch me. When the dock is clear, run to the boat as fast as
you can.”

Isabella stands and turns to the crowd.
They’re already pursuing her. She waits for them. The dock fills up
with puppets faster than I thought possible. Isabella runs to the
closest puppet, aims the shotgun at its knee and blasts the leg in
two. She runs to the next puppet and kicks it square in the chest.
I can’t look away. She’s so good, even as wounded as she is.
Another puppet falls off the edge of the dock, the wake rocking our
boat. She runs to the next one and shoots off its head then kicks
it in the knee. The puppet’s leg breaks and bends backward. She
squeezes off round after round. She kicks and pushes like a black
belt until the dock is clear. More puppets approach. She will need
backup soon.

Ian climbs onto the dock and grabs a rope. He
tosses it to me and I tie it to the front of the boat on a small
cleat. Ben gets out first, without consideration of the women and
children, of course, followed by Rice and Andy. A legless puppet
that had been laid out by Isabella grabs Ben’s ankle. He cries out.
Rice pulls Andy onto her hip and runs toward the
Pioneer
.
Ben bashes the puppet with his bat.

Tanis leaps onto the dock, rocking the boat
heavily. He runs past Ben toward the boat. I watch him the entire
time, feeling on edge. A strong protective instinct fills my body.
I don’t have any kids, but I am a woman. When he’s safe, I relax.
Then Josh slips on something strewn haphazardly on the deck. He
cries out, but keeps moving.

Markus helps me off the boat. Puppet parts
are everywhere and they aren’t dead. I pull my pistol from my
holster. I know it won’t do much good, but if one grabs me I can do
some damage. I fire one shot into the head of a puppet that has
white sunblock smeared on its nose and a camera draped around its
neck. The tourist bleeds out blue liquid. I get a whiff of
something rancid. It nauseates me. I keep moving, aiming at downed
puppets as I hustle past them. They are still reaching and
grabbing, moaning and screaming. There’s slick blue blood and guts
everywhere. I wonder why they’re making so much noise. Are they
communicating with each other?